PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You started out as just a spark,

Out in the dark.

And like an art, you'd take my heart,

Tear it apart, And I'd awake,

From all the ache, that you'd impart.

And then we burned like an inferno,

But then it turned so far internal,

To this eternal fake concern of,

Our well being, and our shame.

Much less agreeing, more pointing blame.

And we became, a gentle flame.

Were little more than ash and smoke.

Watched our friendship thrash and choke.

"Goodbye, my Love" our last words spoke.

My would be friends long gone and pissed,

Some crucial steps we must have missed.

I'd just pretend we'd never kissed.

I'd just forget, you'd reminisce.

I'd write of that, you'd write of this.

Your lullaby would nullify,

The lull and high, the smile and fist.

I'd just give in while you'd resist.

You'd cry to friends, I'd dig my wrists in.

I made a list of what I'd missed,

It's not complete without you in it,

In fact I need you to begin it.

So here's the list carved in my wrist,

Here lies some hearts and lips I've kissed,

And several reasons why I'm pissed.

Most of the reasons I exist,

The ones that I could not resist.

It goes Molly, recalling all the tears and brawling,

Throughout the squall, against the wall, but through it all,

won't let me fall.

And then Melissa, I miss ya and have yet to kiss ya.

I still insist, it was your twist that helped me set the premisis.

With heart in hand, who other than, my Marianne?

So much began, the conflicts and our friendship's grave,

With deathsticks at our lightswitch rave.

Before I'm done, I will have won with Alison.

She's not the one, but she's my button in the long run.

The lovely kelly, never yelling, but she'd always tell me

"I'll always be here to listen, but don't wear sandalls in my kitchen."

      - Lo Ruhamah